


Out Of The Woods

by twistedrunes



Series: George [21]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Language, Massage, Other, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Past Torture, Past Violence, Period-Typical Racism, Sexual Tension, Slurs, Soft!John, Threats, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Sexual Tension, dimple appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-20 02:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17013681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: Tommy’s eyes examine you, as always you find being under his gaze uncomfortable. He brushes your cheek with the backs of his fingers “Nightmares?” He asks. You nod. “You should take some time off.” He follows up.“Really?” You roll your eyes. “You’re one to talk.” You say standing and taking his chin in your hand and tilting his head down so you can examine his face. “You look like you could do with some.” You conclude, your fingertips skimming over his cheekbones, examining the dark circles.“Maybe we should take some together,” Tommy says, a smirk on his lips.You laugh, patting his cheek before dropping your hand to your side. “Alright then Tommy, it’s a deal, you take some time off and I will too.” You shake your head, still laughing at the thought of Tommy taking time off.





	Out Of The Woods

“Can I sit?” John asks pointing to the end of the log you’re sitting on.

“Of course.” You reply with a smile, patting the space next to you. John and Esme had brought the kids to visit with Esme’s family. In the six weeks since you started travelling with the Lee’s, you’d had a number of visitors; Tommy had come once after your first week, Michael and Polly a few times, and now John, Esme and their kids. Finn and Daisy sent their apologies, as Daisy was due any second, Finn refusing to run the risk of his child 'being born in the middle of the fucking forest'.  

John puffs on his cigar in silence as three of his kids run past the two of you, laughing and yelling excitedly at each other. You hear something about a badger. “Stay the fuck away from that dead badger.” He shouts after them.

“Yes, Daddy.” They reply dutifully and in unison.

John turns to you, “Sorry. So much for your peace and quiet ‘ay.” He says watching them disappear down the path.

“Nah, it’s nice.” You assure him, bumping your shoulder against his.

John smiles “It is, isn’t it.” He leans back, stretching his legs in front of him hanging his head back. “Fuck, you wouldn’t believe how relieved I was the first time they laughed after their mother died. Especially the older two, I thought they might never laugh again.” He says blowing smoke in a thin stream into the air.

“Fuck!" You spin to face him, eyes wide, mortified. "John, I never knew. I’m so sorry. I just assumed you and Esme had been together forever.”

John smiles happily at your assessment of his relationship with his wife. “You had no reason to.” He says dismissing your concern “Martha got sick after the last baby, James, and died.” John says looking at the sky intently. “Don’t talk about it much. Not exactly happy banter is it?” He says, sitting forward now and scratching a stick through the grass.  

“No,” You agree. You sit together, a comfortable silence between you, both occupied with your own thoughts. “People don’t know what to say, do they?”

John looks at you knowingly and nods, before turning his attention back to the grass.

"So they just stop talking to you, like you died too like you don’t exist anymore.” 

“Yeah,” John nods still focused on the grass at his feet. “That only lasts for about the first year.” He says giving a half laugh. “It does get better, easier though.” He says turning his head to look at you, and patting your knee. “But I think it’s different for you and Tommy. Different from Ada and me.”

“How?” You ask

“Grace and Goliath were both killed because of the world we’re in. I mean it wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t Tommy’s. Grace and Goliath both knew how things are in this life. Hell, Goliath fucking grew up in it and had his own activities. But, you and Tommy both have this same look, haunted. All the, what ifs flying around in your brains I reckon. As if you could have done something to stop it.” He shakes his head dismissively. “But Freddie and Martha just got sick. Wouldn’t have mattered if we were all fucking clergy they still would have died. I don’t know, but I think that’s probably easier. Not that it changes a fucking thing does it?” He adds “They’re all still fucking dead.” He throws the stick away from him.

You fall into a comfortable contemplative silence again.

“So, how, um” you begin unsure of what you actually want to ask.

“Esme?” John answers understanding your question better than you do. You nod, and John continues. “Martha is always with me, and Goliath will always be with you. Like George.” You lift your head at the mention of George’s name. “Finn told us about him, he died in the war right?”

“Yeah,” You reply.

“So George is like Martha and Freddie, not a fucking thing you could have done to stop that.”

You nod slowly seeing his point.

“So just like with George, things will get easier over time, and then one day, you don’t even know how, but you find yourself in love again. Like ya did with Goliath.” John looks across at you, pausing to see if you understand, you nod, and he continues again. “It’s like kids; there’s always room for one more. You don’t love the ones you’ve got any less because you’ve got another, there just seems to be more love.”

“I never told him I loved him.” You whisper. “He told me all the time. I never said it back.” You fiddle with your ring. John slides across next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “He knew what I was, who I was, and he loved me anyway, and I was too fucking stupid, too fucking scared to say it back." Your throat tightens and your eyes well up. "He never knew. No one else will ever love a woman like me. He was my last chance.” You conclude in a whisper, looking intently at the ground.

“Fuck,” John sighs as he pulls you even tighter against him. “He knew, anyone who saw you knew.” He says, holding you, resting his chin on top of your head and rubbing your back. “Pol knew. She told us to stay away and not to fuck it up for you.” He laughs remembering. “Threatened to cut Tommy’s cock off.”

You can’t help but smile at the mental image of Polly threatening her nephew with castration to ensure your happiness. You feel yourself relaxing in the comforting warmth of John’s embrace. You think how good he must be with his kids when they had nightmares or were scared or sick.

“There’s gonna be someone,” John says confidently. “Fuck, I know it’s not the same, but we all love ya. There’s lots of good, lots to love about you. Right.” John shakes his head smiling cheekily “Plus, you’re a bit of a looker. You’ll be right.” He jokes. The laugh not reaching his lips though as he notices your bottom lip tremble. “Fuck! I’m sorry, love. I’m only teasing, yeah.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek “I’m sorry about Martha.” You say.

“Yeah, an' I’m sorry about Goliath.” He says, squeezing you. “But you need to get better ‘ey. He wouldn’t have wanted you to be like this. That night after the fight, when we met him, you could tell he loved you. That he would have done anything to make you happy.”

“Thanks, John.” You say quietly. 

John ducks his head and lowers his voice. “I’ve never told anyone this,” he begins “but I had a dream about Martha the night I married Esme. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember a damn thing about it. Other than this feeling that she wanted me to move on, that she was happy for me. That it was okay, you know.”

“Daddy! James fell in the dead badger” Katie yells flying towards John. “He stinks real bad!”

“How the fuck?” John groans. 

“He’s got blood and guts all over him. He keeps throwing up.” Katie continues breathlessly.

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tears from your cheeks. 

“I thought I told you kids to leave that fucking badger alone!” John bellows as he stands. He holds his hand out to you. “Wanna see something truly unlovable?” He says with a grin. “Come see this dead badger.” He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet. “Forget Tommy’s gin. The smell of this shit will cure you of anything. Like a fucking lobotomy, it is. Fucking wipes your brain clean, can’t think of anything but the stink.” He says clapping his hand on your shoulder and directing you towards the children and the dead badger. “Trust one of my lot to fall in the fucking thing.” He groans.

\-----------------

“You ready?” Tommy asks putting your suitcase in the back of the car.

“Yeah.” You nod before turning to Johnny and pulling him into a hug. “Thanks for everything Johnny and say thanks to the Lee’s again for me.”

“Pleasure’s been all mine love. You can be sure of that.” He replies hugging you back. “You look after yourself, right.”

“I’ll try Johnny.” You reply with a grin. Johnny laughs. You turn and get into the car. Tommy closes the door behind you before guiding Johnny away from the car to talk.

“Thanks for coming to get me, Tommy.” You say as he gets in the car. “I could have caught the train.”

Tommy shrugs “Needed to make sure you actually came back. Spend too long with that lot, and God knows where you’d end up. Gets in your blood it does. You’d be wandering all over the fucking place.”

“I can see how.” You agree. “It was nice.”

“Plus we have to make a stop on the way,” Tommy says with a smile. “You need to meet the newest Shelby.”

“Finn and Daisy’s?” You ask excitedly.

“A boy. Born three days ago.”

“What did they call him?”

“Nothing yet, still deciding apparently,” Tommy answers with a shrug.

The two of you drive in silence. You notice Tommy’s jaw flexing as he thinks. “Something on your mind?” You ask, stretching your arm across the back of the seat and brushing your fingertips against his shoulder.

Tommy grunts and shakes his head.

You just nod and look out the window. It had been weeks since Tommy had been to see you and things felt strained. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly for staying with me while I was in hospital. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it all really.” You say thinking about all Tommy had done for you without asking anything in return.

“That’s what friends do.” He says stiffly.

You lean back wondering what friendship actually meant to Tommy. You had thought you were good friends before the evening when you ran out of petrol. But Tommy had apparently not felt the same way, so quickly assuming you had betrayed him.

“It was wrong what I said that night you ran out of petrol.” He says suddenly as if reading your mind.

You blink, surprised at Tommy’s almost apology. “Wrong about what?” You ask carefully.

“Well not wrong exactly, but you misunderstood, and I didn’t correct you.”

You shake your head, almost an apology but not quite. “What did I misunderstand?” You say trying to keep the irritation from your voice.

“When I said you were a threat.” Tommy glances across at you.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, or the family or the business.” You say softly.

“I know.” Tommy nods, lighting another cigarette. “I knew.” He smokes in silence. “Sabini was right.” He says flicking the butt out the window.

“How?” You ask not understanding.

“When he thought to hurt you, would hurt me. That’s what I meant when I said you were a threat. I knew someone could use you to hurt me. Not that you would betray me.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?” You ask bewildered.

“Because I thought if you went away you would be safe,” Tommy says. “I was wrong.”

You rub your fingers against Tommy’s shoulder again “What happened wasn’t your fault. Sabini wanted to hurt me, and Goliath, anyway. The fact that he wanted to use me against you is probably what kept me alive.”

Tommy just grunts and lights another cigarette.

“You’re still my friend Tommy. Like it or not.” You joke smiling.

Tommy rolls his eyes a hint of a smile forms at the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

\-----------------

Oh, he’s so beautiful.” You gush as Finn places his three-day-old son in your arms. “What’s his name?” You ask quietly.

Finn and Daisy look at each other “Well,” Finn begins “we wanted to ask if it would be alright if we called him George?”

“We understand if you don’t want us to, if you want to use it for your own babies,” Daisy says quickly from her place in bed.

You look at both of them unable to say anything.

“We could give it to him as a middle name if you prefer,” Finn says quickly.

“No, I mean it’s fine.” You stop trying to gather yourself. “Of course.” You conclude.

“Really, are you sure? You don’t want to for your own children? Not that we’d mind having one with the same name as one of yours” Daisy says shyly.

“No, you use it. No kids for me.” You say, trying to keep your voice light.

“You’ll find someone when you’re ready,” Finn says, his arm wrapping around your shoulder.

You shake your head “Even if by some miracle I did, I can’t have children.” You tell him. “After the accident, at Arrow House.” You explain.

“Oh fuck. Sorry, we didn’t,” Finn groans. You hear Tommy grunt behind you.

You cut Finn off. “It would make me really happy if you call him George.” You assure him with a smile.

\-----------------

You stand in the front hall of Arrow House, waiting for Tommy to come back in after farewelling John and Arthur. Tommy was looking tired you’d noticed. He always did, of course, but he seemed worse than usual. You felt guilty knowing your time away must have put more pressure on him. This evenings meeting had been your first regarding the new brothel at Alea Manor since your last visit there, ten weeks ago.  While you had been away, there had been a strike which stopped both work on the building and the production of the materials, furniture and fittings needed. A strike which had been difficult to break, so it would be at least three months before work would be completed and the brothel ready for customers.

Tommy had asked you to stay behind and then taken his brothers out to their cars. You didn’t try to guess what they were talking about. Instead, looking around the hall, your eyes settling on the painting of Grace.

“How are you doing?” Tommy asks standing next to you, also looking at the painting his hands in his pockets.

“How do you do it?” You ask quietly not taking your eyes from the painting.

“You just do. You put one foot in front of the other and just keep moving forward.” Tommy says

“It’s just so hard at home.” You say with a sigh “Everything is a memory. He’s just there all the time, but not. You know?”

Tommy grunts eyes closing as his head falls back. “Yeah. Grace’s always just around the corner.” Tommy says. “The paintings, the photo’s they’re for Charlie. If not for him I probably would have burnt this place to the ground.” He admits directing you towards his office.  

“Drink?” Tommy asks holding the door for you.

“I’ll get it. You sit.” You offer, ducking under his arm and making your way to the liquor cabinet.

“Ta,” Tommy says dropping into a chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He lights a cigarette and rests his head on the back of the chair, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.

“Here you go.” You say handing him the glass.

“Thanks,” Tommy says rolling his neck.

“Sore?” You ask your hand touching his shoulder lightly.

“Nah. Just a bit stiff.” He replies. “Slept funny.”

You snort, knowing Tommy wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep for the position he was lying in to cause any discomfort. Tommy just grunts at you. “I’ll give you a massage,” You offer, placing your hands on top of his shoulders.

Tommy rolls his head back looking up at you. “I don’t need a massage.”

“Have you ever even had one?” You ask looking down on him, eyebrow cocked.

“No,” Tommy admits, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Well then, how would you know?” You challenge.

Tommy sighs “Alright then, get on with it.” He says rolling his head forward again.

“Take your tie and waistcoat off.” You instruct.

“You sure this isn’t just an excuse to get my kit off.” Tommy jokes, fingers already undoing the buttons of his waistcoat.

You roll your eyes and take a large mouthful of whiskey. “Don’t pretend it takes anything more than a quick wink to get your kit off,” you tease. 

Tommy arches his eyebrow, watching you closely as he removes his tie, dropping it on the sideboard and his waistcoat, hanging it over the back of a chair. “Shirt too?” He asks as if daring you.

“Collar.” You say flatly not taking the bait. Tommy removes his collar setting it next to his tie. “Sit.” You instruct patting the chair. Tommy sits.

You slide your hands along his collarbones to his throat, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. Tommy takes a sip of his whiskey. You can feel his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows. You place your hands on his shoulders gliding your hands over the material covering them for a few minutes before bringing your hands to his neck. Using your thumbs you stroke up from his collar to his hairline. You feel Tommy sink a little lower in the chair.

Smirking slightly, you knead Tommy’s shoulders. Pausing where you felt any knots or tension, watching him for little twitches or tensing that would indicate if something was painful. You notice his cigarette hanging precariously between his fingers in danger of falling on the floor, you stop, leaning forward to snatch up the cigarette taking the last drag before putting it out in the ashtray.

“Hey!” Tommy says, tensing and opening his eyes.

“You were about to drop it.” You scold.

“Wasn’t,” he retorts reflexively, as his eyes close again.

You turn your hands, using the heel of your hand to work his shoulder muscles more intensely. Tommy relaxes back in the chair again. You can feel a tightness in his right shoulder. “What happened here?” You ask. Using your fingertips to trace along the erratic scar tissue. Feeling for any tension under it.

“The war,” Tommy says with a small shrug.

You give a little hum of acknowledgement and keep working the spot gently. Once you feel the muscle release, you return to broad strokes using all of your hand. You slide your hands out, over his shoulders and down onto his upper arms, working the muscles deeply. Feeling the strength and warmth in them. You shake your head trying not to focus on how Tommy’s body feels under your hands. 

You move to the side of the chair, bending Tommy’s arm at the elbow, undoing his cufflink, rolling the sleeve down and using both hands to knead the muscles in his forearm. The back of his hand taps lightly against your stomach with each stroke. Reaching his hand, you entwine your fingers with his, using your thumb on his palm, then work each finger individually. You lower his arm back onto the armrest. Trailing your hand up his arm, you work both shoulders and upper arms again before repeating the process on his other arm. You notice Tommy’s eyes are closed, long lashes stark against his pale skin.

Pausing for a moment, you keep your hands resting on his shoulders and take a deep breath. The smell of him filling your nose. Immediately you feel calm settle over you. Slowly you slide your hands over his shoulders and along his collarbones. Tommy feels warm under your hands. Leaning forward slightly your hands meet over his sternum, your chest pressing lightly against the back of his head. You run your hands down his chest before coming up again and repeating the process. You smile, feeling Tommy’s breathing slow and deepen as you work the muscles. You adjust your position as you move your hands to the back of his neck. Working up into his hair, massaging his scalp. Tommy’s head drops forward slightly, allowing you better access.

You work the area around his ears, tugging his earlobes lightly between your finger and thumb. Tommy sighs. You trace your fingertips along his jaw, tipping his head back, so the crown of his head rests against you. Tommy’s eyes flicker open for a moment, his eyes unusually dark. He closes them again as you sweep your fingers up over his throat and under his chin. You feel his Adam’s apple jump as your fingers skip over it.  You repeat the movement a few times before brushing along his jaw lightly, careful not to create too much friction against the light stubble you can feel there.

Tommy’s head gets heavier against you. You draw your fingertips out over his cheekbones. He hums as your hands caress his forehead, smoothing out the creases you find there. Finally, you rake your fingers through the long hair on top of his head. Enjoying its silky feel between your fingers. You notice Tommy’s breathing slowing, each breath longer and deeper than the last. You find your breathing following his.

“I’d better get going.” You say quietly, carefully guiding his head up from your stomach.

As you step around the chair Tommy’s hand catches yours. “Thanks.” He says quietly. Before he clears his throat and shuffles in his chair. He drops your hand and lights another cigarette. “So where’d you learn that then?” He asks.

“Selene’s.” You say cheekily.

Tommy blinks once, another smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth “I kinda feel like that should have ended differently then.” He teases. 

“Costs extra.” You retort quickly.

“I can afford it,” Tommy says quietly, his smirk becomes a broad smile, his eyes sparkling, dimples forming on his cheeks.

You look at him gasping, your hand coming to your mouth as you giggle.

“I’m joking,” Tommy says defensively. 

You shake your head. “You. Have. Dimples!” You say unable to stop yourself from reaching down to touch them.

Tommy bats your hand away. “I do not have dimples.” He says scowling, standing abruptly and taking his empty glass to the liquor cabinet, filling it with his back to you.

“They’re just like Charlie’s,” you say trying to stop yourself from laughing. “They’re so cute.”

“They are not fucking cute.” Tommy snaps moving to the window, still not looking at you. You giggle again, smiling at his reflection in the glass.  “Oh God, please stop.” Tommy groans, obviously concentrating on keeping his face neutral. But you notice the glint in his eye.

You cross over to him, standing beside him looking out the window. You look up at him. “Cute.” You say again, bumping him with your hip. “No wonder all the girls like you.” You tease.

“Not all the girls,” Tommy says. 

“Whatever you say, Tommy.” You say patting him on the shoulder “I’m going home.”

Tommy turns towards you slightly, his knuckles bumping against yours “It’s already nine, why don’t you stay?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got a meeting in London tomorrow morning. It’ll be best if I go now.”

“Yeah, right,” Tommy says flatly.

“I’ll see you next week.” You say heading for the door.

“Yeah. See you then.” Tommy says before turning back to the window.

\-------------------

“Morning Anna,” Michael says, standing in the front hall of Arrow Manor, glancing up from a handful of telegrams. Of course, he looks sharp in his suit, single red rosebud on his lapel.

“Morning Michael, already tackling your best man duties I see.” You greet him.

“Cunts!” Michael spits.

“What?” You ask alarmed, stepping back from the force of his outburst.

“Peggy’s family aren’t coming.” He hisses, looking around.

“What? Why?” You ask horrified.

Michael’s nostrils flare as he shoves the telegram into your hand.

You scan it quickly, anger rising in you with each word. Two words standing out NEGRO and DISOWNED.  

“They only met Isaiah for the first time last night,” Michael tells you in a harsh whisper.

“Where’s Peggy?” You ask gripping the telegram tightly in your hand.

“Upstairs. With Daisy and the bridesmaids.” He says

“Isaiah?”

“In the kitchen with the lads.”

“Let’s go.” You say turning towards the kitchen.

 

The kitchen is full. You catch Tommy’s eye, and he comes to you and Michael. “What’s wrong?” He asks immediately. You hand him the telegram. “Fuck,” Tommy says sucking air through his teeth, jaw twitching.

“We need to talk to Isaiah and his dad.” You say.

Tommy nods, before turning to face the larger group. “Right. You lot, anyone not family or part of the wedding party, fuck off.” It takes a few minutes but finally it’s just you, Tommy, Arthur, John, Finn, Michael, Isaiah and Rev. Jesus. Tommy puts his hand on Isaiah’s shoulder. “Peggy’s family aren’t coming.” He says handing Isaiah the telegram, the Reverend reads it over Isaiah's shoulder.

“I knew it!” Isaiah exclaims. “Last night when I met them, they,” he stops when you place your hand on his arm. “She thought they’d come round.” He says dejectedly.

“You need to tell Peggy. The two of you need to work out what you want to do.” You say calmly.

“I can’t see her it's bad luck.” He says.

“It’s okay, we’ll find a way.” You say rubbing his shoulder tenderly. “Arthur, John, will you please go and help seat people. No sides. Leave the front row empty, I’ll sit in for her family.”

“Us too,” Arthur says with a grunt.

“Thanks.” You say to Arthur. “Tommy go get your dressing gown." You turn to Isaiah "It should cover her dress so you can talk to her properly.” 

You, Daisy, Michael, Finn and Tommy wait in the hall outside the room Peggy had been using to prepare, while Isaiah and his father talk to Peggy. You hear Peggy’s anguished cry and lean your back against the wall closing your eyes. Tommy leans against the wall next to you. “Alright?” He asks quietly.

“Only people who don’t understand what it means to have no family would do shit like this.” You whisper harshly.

“Hmm,” Tommy agrees, pressing his shoulder against yours.

“Oh, no,” Daisy says softly.

“What?” You and Tommy ask in unison.

“She won’t have anyone to walk her down the aisle,” Daisy says sadly. “And she won’t have her something borrowed or her something blue. Her mother and sister were doing those.”

You shake your head again in irritation. The door opens and Jerimiah motions for all of you to go in. Poor Peggy wrapped tightly in Tommy’s dressing gown, eyes red and puffy, sits stiffly in a chair. Isaiah standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Her hand gripping his so tightly her knuckles are white. “We are going ahead,” Peggy says determinedly.

“Good.” You say, sliding the pearl ring from your finger and stepping forward, to put it in Peggy’s hand “Something borrowed." Peggy nods in thanks, tears welling in her eyes.

“Something blue,” Michael says removing the blue silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and handing it to Peggy. She smiles and nods, obviously holding back tears.

“As it’s my house I’ll give you away, if you like.” Tommy offers, his tone is gruff, but you recognise the compassion in his eyes.  

“Thank you, Mr Shelby.” Peggy nods, her voice shaky.  

“Alright then.” Jeremiah says “Let’s get these kids married.”

 

The celebrations at the reception are raucous, as if everyone in attendance has decided to compensate for the absence of Peggy’s family. You, Tommy, Linda, Arthur and Billy were taking their places at the head table.

Tommy rests his arm on the back of your chair, leaning across to speak softly in your ear. “You know as mother and father of the bride we really should dance.”

“Mother and Father?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. I walked her down the aisle, you sat in the front row, gave her your ring as the something borrowed.” Tommy nods “Only proper really.” He says smirking.

“Are you asking me to dance Mr Shelby?”

Tommy stands, holding his hand out to you “Insisting.” He says. You shake your head, but place your hand on his and allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor.

“Do you remember what to do?” He teases.

“Yes.” You reply rolling your eyes at him as you begin to move. Tommy’s eyes hold yours. “One, two, three. One, two three.” You say under your breath.

Tommy’s cheek brushes yours as he ducks his head to hear you. He laughs realising what you’re saying. “Still counting then.” He says lifting his head to meet your eye again. His eyes change colour slightly when he laughs you notice. Less stormy ocean and more summer sky.

You lift your hand from his shoulder and pinch his cheek between your thumb and index finger “Still got those dimples.” You taunt.

Tommy shakes his head at you, frowning, though his eyes still dance. You move together in silence, Tommy’s thumb rubbing slowly over your hip as you move. “You look lovely today,” Tommy says quietly.

“Thank you, Tommy. You look nice too.” You say, rubbing your hand over his shoulder. “I’m moving back to my old cottage.” Tommy looks at you in surprise. “I can’t stay in London, it’s too much travelling and,” You trail off, unable to admit you could no longer bare living somewhere with so many memories of Goliath.

Tommy nods, “When?”

“In the next week or two.” 

The song ends, and you go to move off the floor, but Tommy doesn’t move, resisting your attempt to leave. “Can’t have just one.” He says by way of explanation.

“Alright.” You agree, following his lead.

“At least Eddie won’t steal you away this time.” He says quietly.

You shake your head. “From what I remember, Polly practically had to force you to dance with me. Threats were made.”

“Hmm,” Tommy shrugs as if it didn’t matter either way. “What happened to him anyway?” He asks.

You just smile and shake your head. “Fuck off, Tommy.”

Tommy grins, “Never liked him anyway, fucking cavalry cunt.” He says under his breath.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but smile. “It was good of you to walk Peggy down the aisle.” You say to change the subject.

“It was good of you to lend her your ring.” He replies. “It’s the one Alfie gave you when you were in the hospital isn’t it?”

“Mmm.” You agree.

“What was the story Selene was talking about?” Tommy asks softly. Caught off guard by his question, you take a deep breath, closing your eyes trying to stop the tears you can feel burning there. You duck your head, feeling the first tear escape. “Hey, it’s okay,” Tommy says squeezing your hand gently. Tears keep falling. He stops dancing and leads you from the dance floor, guiding you through the crowd, his hand holding yours. He walks quickly, tucking you in behind him as he clears a path. Glaring at anyone who looks at you for longer than a second as if daring them to say anything and fully prepared to harm anyone who does. Away from the revellers, he slows down but keeps your hand in his as he leads you to his office.

He shows you seat and pours you a whiskey before he asks “You alright?”

“It’ll be a year the week after we open the brothel.” You reply swirling the oily liquid in your glass. “Alfie’s invited me to the Matzevah ceremony.” Tommy raises his eyebrows not understanding. “It’s a Jewish ceremony where they unveil the gravestone, happens on one year anniversary.” You explain.

“How long do you need?” Tommy asks

“A couple of days.” You reply quietly.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No.”

“Tell me the truth now, are you alright?” Tommy asks leaning forward in his chair across from you.

“Just.” You admit.

“You sleeping?” Tommy asks.

You laugh coldly. “No.”

“Anniversaries are hard,” Tommy says, as much to himself as you, as he leans back in his chair.

\-----------------

“You look tired,” Tommy says leaning against the door frame of your office.

You look up from your desk “Gee, thanks, Tommy, you really know how to compliment a girl.” You say sarcastically.  

Tommy’s tongue sweeps between his lips as he pulls a cigarette from his case and places it between them. “Didn’t say you weren’t still beautiful.” He says stepping through the doorway and closing it behind him. “Just that you look tired.” He says, before ducking his head and lighting his cigarette. You ignore his compliment with a shrug, turning your attention back to the work in front of you. Tommy sits across from you. “How was the ceremony?” He asks.

“Beautiful, sad.” You say simply.

“You ‘right?” He asks.

“One foot in front of the other.” You say with a weak smile.

Tommy nods. “You settled back in the cottage?”

“Just about.” 

Tommy nods standing again and walking around the desk to stand next to you, “Those the takings?” He asks nodding at the papers on your desk.

“Yeah.” 

Tommy leans down to examine the paperwork, one hand on the desktop and the other on the back of your chair for support. You roll your neck while you wait for him to finish. Aware, now you had changed position, that you had been sitting for far too long.

“Looks good,” Tommy says standing and leaning back against the desk.  

“Mm, we should be at full capacity within the next month.” You comment, wincing slightly as your neck catches.

“Any problems?” Tommy asks, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on your desk and moving behind you, laying his hands on your shoulders, his fingers gliding down the back of your neck.

“Not really. A few of our boys not understanding that the girls aren’t for them and a few punters who can’t mind their manners. But nothing serious.” You say as Tommy’s hands begin to knead your shoulders.

“How are you dealing with that?” He asks, hands sliding from the tops of your shoulders down onto your collarbones.

You lift your hand, placing it over one of Tommy’s “Don’t.” you instruct.

“Massages are very good at helping sore necks.” He replies cheekily, moving his hand from under yours and sliding over your shoulders again.

“It’s nice.” You agree, tipping your head back to look at him. “But not here, ‘ey.” You say patiently. “Anyone could walk in at any moment, probably one of your brothers, and I don’t want people thinking we’re fucking.”

“What if we were? It’s no ones fucking business. Doesn’t matter what they think.” Tommy says irritably but removes his hands and moves to lean back against the desk again.

“For you.” You say wearily. “For me, it means people don’t think I can do my job. That I’ve only got it by fucking you.” You conclude snappily, tiding the papers away.

Tommy’s eyes examine you, as always you find being under his gaze uncomfortable. He brushes your cheek with the backs of his fingers “Nightmares?” He asks. You nod. “You should take some time off.” He follows up.

“Really?” You roll your eyes. “You’re one to talk.” You say standing and taking his chin in your hand and tilting his head down so you can examine his face. “You look like you could do with some.” You conclude, your fingertips skimming over his cheekbones, examining the dark circles.

“Maybe we should take some together,” Tommy says, a smirk on his lips.

You laugh, patting his cheek before dropping your hand to your side. “Alright then Tommy, it’s a deal, you take some time off and I will too.” You shake your head, still laughing at the thought of Tommy taking time off.

\----------------

“Alright, I’m off home. Anything I need to know before I go?” You ask Peggy, who was now the manager of the brothel at Alea House.

“Would you like me to call the doctor?” Peggy says with a quick grin. Realising she’s making a not so subtle jibe that you had spent only half your day off in the office. You raise an eyebrow. “It’s the middle of the day, you must be at death’s door,” Peggy says now smiling broadly.

You roll your eyes. “That’s enough of that cheek Mrs Jesus. Talk like that may make me re-examine my policy on hiring married women.” You say drolly.

Peggy laughs good-naturedly “Bye, Anna.” She says before turning to greet a customer.

\-----------------

“Coming.” You call in response to the knock at the door. Grabbing grab a clean rag from the table to wipe the gun oil from your hands. “Who is it?” You call again once in the hall.

“Tommy.” He replies.

“Anything wrong?” You ask using the rag to open the door and standing aside to let him in.

“No, I called the office, and they said you’d gone home. Just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He says heading immediately for the kitchen.

You shake your head, “You’re as bad a Peggy, today is actually my day off.” You point out.

Tommy smiles “I know. But I still wanted to check.”

“I’m fine. Just decided you were probably right, I need some time away from the place. You don’t need to check up on me.” You reply following him back to the kitchen.

“Hm,” Tommy hums noncommittally. “So you decided to clean your guns?” He asks raising his eyebrow.

“It’s relaxing.” You say. “If you want a drink, you’ll have to get it yourself.” You say, holding up your dirty hands and taking your place at the table again.

“You want tea?” Tommy asks.

“Thanks.” 

Tommy busies himself filling the kettle and taking out the teapot, cup and saucer, before stepping into the sitting room and pouring himself a whiskey.

“Want me to do yours?” You ask as he comes back into the kitchen.

“I do look after it you know.” He says, his voice slightly sulky, pulling the gun you had made him from his holster and handing it over.

“I would hope so.” You say taking it from him and looking it over fondly, before unloading it beginning to break it down.

Tommy puts a cup of tea on the table, taking the other seat and watching you work in silence. 

“It is a beautiful piece.” He says eventually, as you begin to put it back together.

“I’m glad you like it.” You say wiping it over and putting it on the table in front of him.

You start packing away your tools. “What was it you wanted?” You ask. Tommy looks at you blankly. “When you called the office.” You remind him.

“Oh, I wanted to tell you I’m taking a few days off.” He says casually “So you need to pack a bag.” He finishes with a smirk.

“My, you’re even worse at taking time off than I thought.” You tease. “You’re the one who packs the bag, not me.”

“No, we have a deal,” Tommy says holding your eye and tapping his finger against the table. “If I take time off, you will too.”

“Tommy,” you begin to argue.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” Tommy says evenly.

“About three hours, give or take.” You reply, defiantly holding his eye.

“The night before?”

“The same.”

“The one before?”

“Same.” You say, your gaze dropping.

“Doctor Prendergast said you need to get enough sleep,” Tommy says quietly, rubbing his fingertip against the back of your hand.

“I would if I could Tommy.” You say shortly, your tone snappier than you intended, as you snatch your hand away.

“You said you sleep better in the woods,” Tommy says calmly, choosing to ignore your outburst. You nod unable to deny his claim, you did sleep better in the woods. “No one will know.” Tommy counters what he knows will be your first argument. “We’ll take a caravan, go camp. I’ll sleep in a tent if it makes you feel better.” You can’t help but smile at Tommy’s offer to sleep in a tent. Obvious that he had also planned a counter-argument to what he guessed would be your second objection. “We can go now. You can call the office and tell them you’re taking a couple of days and we’ll be back before anyone misses us.”

\------------------

You stretch your feet out towards the fire and lean back against the log behind you. Tommy hands you a glass of whiskey. Before picking up the clean dishes from dinner and taking them back to the caravan. You take a sip and hang your head back, closing your eyes listening to the gentle sounds of the countryside. The crackle of the fire, the scampering of the night animals in the undergrowth, even the distant hooting of an owl.

“Neck sore?” Tommy asks, noticing you rolling it.

“Just a bit stiff.” You shrug “It’s not been right since Sabini.”

Tommy grunts. “You know, massage helps.” He offers. You don’t bother to respond. “Best night sleep I’d had in ages that night you gave me one.” He says quietly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he pushes you forward and sits on the log behind you.

You tip your head back to look at him, the angles of his face highlighted in the flickering light. “You don’t have to,”

“The point is for you to sleep, remember?” He says sitting up straighter and smoothing his hands over your shoulders.

Your head drops forward, and Tommy runs his hand over the back of your neck and into your hair. You slump a little with his touch. Tommy’s hands smooth over your shoulders again. You pull your knees up to your chest and lean against them, your arms wrapping around your legs. You sense Tommy shuffling forwards on the log, his legs either side of you. His hands sweep long strokes up and down your back. You groan a little as Tommy’s hands press against your lower back and around onto your hips.

Tommy’s hands stop moving, “Am I hurting you?” 

“No. It feels nice.” You reply, your hand brushing against his shin reassuringly. “Good.” You confirm.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” Tommy says, his hands starting to move again.

“Mm-hmm.” You hum in agreement.

Tommy’s hands glide over you, rubbing your hips, lower back, shoulders, upper arms and your neck. You feel yourself drifting, mind empty as you simply enjoy the sensation. “Anna.” You hear Tommy say his hand shaking your shoulder gently. “Anna, come on time for bed.”

You nod, body feeling too heavy to answer as Tommy moves to in front of you and pulls you to your feet. Tommy guides you to the caravan, opening the door for you and offering you his hand for support as you climb up the stairs. Once inside you stop and smile. “Thanks, Tommy.” You say before collapsing on the bed.

Tommy climbs in after you and tugs off your shoes, setting them aside. “Goodnight Anna.”

“Night Tommy. Thanks.” You say, barely able to keep your eyes open as you pull off your jacket, deciding you couldn’t be bothered with anything else, you pull the covers over yourself and rest your head on the pillow.

 

You wake a few hours later, uncomfortably tangled in your clothing. You strip quickly and pull on your nightgown and get back into bed for warmth, expecting to be up for the remainder of the night. However, as soon as your head hits the pillow, you are asleep.

  _All around you are the biggest oysters you have ever seen. Each mollusc as high as your knees and at least as long as you are tall. They stretch as far as the eye can see. You walk amongst them fascinated by their size and quantity. You rub your hand over one of the shells, pulling it back sharply as the jagged surfaces slices into your hand. Crimson fluid rises around you like smoke. Curling up and away, following its path you see dark shapes gliding above you like clouds. Unlike clouds, the forms are smooth, dark and regular. You notice your vision being tinted by a rose hue, you look at your hand as more blood rises up. The clouds begin to glide down towards you. As they get closer, you realise what they are. Sharks._

_Fear clutches your chest like a vice, and you gasp for breath. Suddenly it strikes you that you are surrounded by water and not air. The realisation immediately making you desperate for air, choking on the water around you. The sharks continue to hone in on your following the scent of your blood. Panic begins to rise in you. Now upon you, the shark’s circle, bumping against you._

_To your left an oyster opens, desperate to get away from the sharks you climb in. The oyster closes around you protectively. To your surprise you can see; the inside of the oyster lit by a luminescent pearl. Unable to resist its lure you reach out and touch it. Causing the gem to roll, colours playing off its surface. As it settles you glance down on it again. Recoiling immediately at the sight of Goliaths head, bloated and deformed, a hole in the middle of his forehead, eels and shellfish appearing in his empty eye sockets and mouth._

_Screaming and gasping for breath you claw desperately at the shell trying to escape._

“Anna! Anna! Wake up, it’s Tommy. Anna!” Tommy is yelling at you, shaking you to try to get you to wake. His eyes wide and heart racing at the sight of you in the weak light of the lantern, screaming, eyes open and looking straight through him. You desperately claw and both him and anything your hands come in contact with. In desperation, he slaps your face.

You stop screaming. Eyes slowly focusing on Tommy as your hand rises to the burning sensation of your cheek. “I’m sorry, Anna.” He says immediately, breathing hard as he places his hand against your cheek soothingly. “I thought you were going to hurt yourself.” He pulling you against his chest.

“I was having a nightmare.” You say dumbly.

“I know, love.” Tommy smooths his hand over your hair holding you tightly.

“I’m sorry Tommy.” You say quietly as you calm down.

“It’s fine,” Tommy says loosening his grip on your slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly.

“No.” You shake your head.

Tommy holds you, one hand holding the back of your head, the other stroking your back.

“I’m okay.” You tell him after about ten minutes.

“You sure?” he asks. You nod. Tommy slides away from you, he hisses and his hand rises to your reddened cheek. “I’m sorry.” He says, sliding back towards you, and pressing his lips softly against the hot skin. “I didn’t know how else to wake you up. I thought you were going to hurt yourself.” He says softly, as he stands again. 

You catch his hand. Tommy stops. You tug his hand, pulling him to sit back down. He does, cautiously lowering himself back down. “Stay.” You manage to whisper. Shuffling across the bed to make room for him.

“Okay,” Tommy says, shuffling back and over, so his back is against the headboard, watching you carefully as he lifts his feet on to the bed.

You sit next to him. Lifting his arm and wrapping it around your shoulders before snuggling in against his chest. Tommy sits stiffly for a long time. “Stay.” You say again.

“Do you want me to leave the lantern on?” he asks quietly.

You nod. Tommy relaxes slightly. You rest your hand on his chest next to your face. Tommy kisses the top of your head. The two of you remain in silence for a long time. Tommy’s hand rubs gentle circles on your back. You fingers stroking the fabric of his undershirt. Eventually, his warmth, the gentle rhythm of his heart and his soothing touch lull you back to sleep.

  _You’re walking through the woods, there’s a slight chill in the air, little pockets of snow still hiding out in the dark places and little gulleys. But scattered in the leaf litter, daffodils, and jonquils are bobbing in the breeze. As you wander further, you begin to realise you don’t know where you are, each bend in the path bringing the trees closer and blocking more and more light. Just when you start to panic, a man appears next to you._

_Goliath._

_He leads you to clearing and then to a log motioning for you to sit. He ducks down and picks flowers, putting them in your hair smiling warmly as he takes a seat next to you. You sit, not talking for a long time. As the shadows begin to lengthen and the sky starts to blush Goliath stands, taking your hand as he begins to walk again. He leads you through the woods until you reach the edge. Before you a field, with a stone wall and style separating you from a collection of houses on the other side. Goliath points to the house closest. Your cottage you realise, with Arrow House and Alea Manor behind it and the skyline of Birmingham behind it all._

_You shake your head and turn away, flinging your arms around his waist. You clutch at him not wanting to leave. Goliath wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. Then taking hold of your shoulders he bends down to meet your eyes, he smiles and nods at you before turning you towards the cottage. He pushes you gently forwards, you turn, but he’s gone. Feeling lighter you climb over the wall easily and cross the field to the houses beyond._

Stretching, you rollover enjoying the smell of the fresh air. You lie on your back looking up at the roof, remembering your dream. Remembering John’s dream. Tommy’s gone you realise, with a little jolt in your stomach. 

Rising, you stick your head out the door of the caravan and call out good morning. There’s no answer. You notice the fire is burning strongly and the kettle is missing. You realise Tommy must be getting water for tea. Ducking back inside and closing the door you decide to dress and make a start on breakfast.

A shot cracks through the air, shattering the early morning silence.

“Tommy!” You scream, scrambling half-dressed from the caravan, grabbing your gun on the way. Running towards the sound of the shot, your unbuttoned shirt blows open, shirttails snapping behind you. The pounding of your heart is only just drowned out by the sound of your bare feet pounding on the earth. You scan your surroundings for an attacker. 

Nearing the river, you can see Tommy on his knees facing away from you. “Tommy!” You bark, running faster trying to get to him. Hearing your cry, he turns to you. All you can see is the blood on his hands. You stumble, faltering at the sight. Scrambling to your feet, you run again, before falling to your knees as you reach him.

“Anna?” Tommy says eyes widening at the sight of you near hysterical.

“Where are you hit?” You demand, hot tears burning down your cheeks.

“I’m not hit,” Tommy says, trying to grab hold of your hands, but your wrench them free. Frantically, your hands pat over his torso, trying to find the wound. “Anna.” Tommy says firmly, “Anna. I’m not hurt.”

You take a breath “There was a shot, the blood.” You insist. Your fingers swiftly undoing the buttons of his shirt and pushing it back off his shoulders. “You mustn’t be able to feel it because of the shock.” You say. Satisfied there is no injury on his front you move behind him, pushing his shirt up as you run your hands over his back and shoulders searching.

“I shot a duck. I’m fine.” Tommy says pointing to the dead bird in the grass not more than two feet away from you.  

“What?” You say dumbly, your brain very slow to process the information. Finally understanding you groan “Fuck.” Slumping forward, you rest your head between Tommy’s shoulder blades. You un-cock your gun and place it on the grass next to you.

Tommy leans forward, dipping his hands in the river and washing the blood from them. Sitting back on his heels he reaches behind him and takes your hands in his, wrapping your arms around his middle. You adjust yourself, your chin on his shoulder. The soft hairs on the side of his head silky against your temple. He laces his fingers between yours, pulling you closer, your chest pressing against his back. “I’m fine.” He repeats, turning his head towards you, so his cheek brushes your nose. “We’re safe.”

You sigh with relief, pressing your lips against his neck just below his ear, your hand splayed against his torso as you do so. You feel Tommy’s stomach tighten under your palm. You freeze, heart pounding when you realise what you had done. Tommy unwraps your arms from around him and turns to face you. Knees touching, he meets your eye, picking your hands up from your lap “We’re safe.” He assures you, his thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands.

Finding his gaze even less tolerable than normal you duck your head and burst into tears. Tommy quickly wraps you in his arms, shuffling forward, his thigh slipping between your knees. He holds you tightly. Smoothing your hair and rubbing your back. “Shh,” he says quietly trying to soothe you.

Trapped between you, your hands press against his bare chest. The warmth of his skin seeping into you. As you relax one of your hands slides down his chest, over his abdomen and onto his hip. You sigh as the skin of his chest comes into contact with the skin of yours.  Tommy’s body stiffens, and his hands stop moving over your back. Your other hand stays on his chest, you can feel his rapid heartbeat in your palm.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says, “I never should have gone shooting without telling you. I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine.” You say letting go and shuffling backwards. Swiping your hands over your cheeks to remove the tears.  “I over-reacted.” You say dismissively, with a shake of your head. You place your hands on his shoulders smoothing his shirt. Lining up the edges you begin to button it up. You leave the top two buttons undone, sweeping down over the buttons to smooth it. Meeting his eye finally and smiling weakly. “Sorry.”

Tommy's eyes travel down from your face, taking in your exposed chest. His tongue slides from between his lips, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. His fingers hover over your stomach. A single finger tracing the length of the scar from the hay hook and subsequent surgery, his brow furrowing. Your heart is pounding in your ears. You lift your hand to stop him, but he is already tugging the fabric of your shirt across your body. He starts on the buttons, working from the bottom up. Shuffling closer again, his knee slides easily between your thighs. The warmth of his leg seeps into yours. He finishes buttoning you up, his hands rising up to hold your face. He tips your head back and meets your eye. “You alright?” He asks, voice hoarser than normal.

“No,” You admit, shaking your head, voice barely audible and ducking your eyes from his gaze.

His hand falls to your hip, guiding you up, so you are both on your knees. “I’m sorry.” He says again his eyes holding yours intently. You nod not trusting yourself to speak. Tommy’s hand slides to the back of your head, fingers working into your hair. “Come on, let’s get back ‘ey.” He says before he presses his lips against your forehead.

A small sigh escapes you as his lips touch your skin. You feel Tommy hesitate, his forehead pressing against yours again as his eyes hold yours, stormier than usual. Running your finger along his jaw, you draw his mouth towards yours. Leaning in to close the final distance. Tommy hesitates.

You both pause, lips barely touching. You can tell Tommy’s holding back, waiting for you. His hand caressing your hip. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice deeper, more needy than usual.

“Yes.” You nod, “are you?”

“Yes,” Tommy says, his voice gentle but his eyes flaring. You cup his cheek in your hand and pull his lips back to yours. His hand tightens in your hair and pulls you against him as his tongue skims your lips. You part your lips allowing him access, your tongue meeting his. Your hand grabs the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Your kiss becomes frantic, tongues chasing each other, lips being nipped and sucked.

Tommy pulls away, breaking the kiss. He rubs his thumbs against your cheeks, smiling as he watches you. Tommy shakes his head, a soft smile on his face “Do you ever run away from the danger?” He asks.

You shake your head and offer a weak smile. “You know what Arthur says; I have a nose for trouble.”

Tommy nods, “If I had of known that all it would take for you to kiss me would be you thinking someone had tried to kill me I would have staged an assassination attempt a long time ago.” He teases. 

“Oh, so that’s what happened on the stag hunt and with the Russians. It was all a setup? You wanted to be rescued so you could kiss the hero? Is that why you read me all those fairy tales? Trying to give me a hint.” You tease. 

Tommy laughs, grabbing your waist and pulling down on the grass. He positions himself above you. “Hmmm, so maybe third times the charm. Let’s just skip to the happy ending ‘ey.” He says kissing you again. 

You push your hands against Tommy’s chest, eyes twinkling as you whisper “Whatever you say, princess.” 

 


End file.
